Holocene
by backtopluto
Summary: USUK, pottertalia/ Arthur is a disgruntled auror for the Ministry of Magic. Alfred is a skilled engineer in London. When Arthur is sent on a suicide mission, he never meant to run into the muggle. However, neither anticipated the mess they were getting themselves into. Warnings: Language, some homophobia, and fantasy violence.
1. Chapter 1

"Sir, you don't understand, this is important!" The man insisted, a stack of papers were clutched in his hands and his countenance was contoured to display his obvious frustration.

"Not, now Kirkland." Answered Gawain Robards, the head auror of the Ministry of Magic, and the same man who had the pleasure of being Arthur Kirkland's boss. Said wizard huffed angrily. He was used to being treated like a stepping stool too the other auror's, despite his pureblood heritage and hard work.

He sidestepped a witch scurrying past with a large stack of papers and pushed himself up to Robards' side. "You don't understand, this particular group has a long and profound history of smuggling dangerous and illegal creatures and objects between Britain and Russia, just under the ministry's nose. Not to mention twice they have illegally obliterated a muggle and their is one failed attempt at unprovoked manslaughter-"

"Yes, yes. When will you stop presenting me with false information and give me a real problem?" Robards shot icily, eyes narrowing at the younger wizard.

Arthur sputtered. Not a real problem? Just what other problems did the ministry have to deal with? The last big thing had been twenty years ago at the battle of Hogwarts, and where was the ministry then? As far as Arthur knew their biggest problem at the moment was a sudden influx in mandrake sales.

"Sir," he managed, "I would never dare present you with something false or irrelevant."

"Please, Kirkland." The tall man turned around, and this time Arthur didn't try to follow him. "Take a look at all the other reports you've presented to me." He smiled cooly. "I do not appreciate liars."

Robards very nearly disappeared round the nearest corner. Memories flashed before Arthur's eyes like one of those muggle films. He was reminded as to how he so typically was treated as only an errand boy, despite his title claiming him to be an auror. He'd worked just as hard as all the others, and he was a very powerful wizard, if he dare say it.

Taking a brave step forward he called out, his voice much steadier than he felt, "Three days!"

The auror stopped and turned, his countenance a mixture of confusion and amusement. "What?"

"If you give me three days to track down the group and return them to you with evidence," what was he even saying? He was most certainly about to be fired. "you have to acknowledge me as a real auror."

Robards raised an impressed eyebrow, spinning the idea in his mind carefully. "And if you don't?"

He gulped, obstinately keeping his green eyes trained to Robards deep brown. "You can fire me."

The head auror nodded thoughtfully, a twisted smile taking form. "You're a bold one. Stupid as well. Sure you weren't in Gryffindor?"

Arthur pushed down the anger and hopefulness blooming once in his gut. He'd never sunk so low before. Pride never called for it. But he was given a chance and he was not about to waste it.

"Slytherin, sir." he replied, not bothering to hide the forced pleasantries in his voice.

"Alright, Kirkland." he held out his hand and Arthur clasped it in his own. "You have a deal. Three days from now I expect you to have something to show me." Their hands fell, and Robards adjusted a few dials on his watch. "I'll be counting."

Arthur held his head high, watching as his boss disappeared behind a corner and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

There was a single thought radiating through Arthur's mind, loud and alone, it was plain and clear and entirely fitting for the present situation:

What have I done.

He'd packed away everything in his cramped office that he could think to bring case files, maps, a sneakoscope, omnioculars, documents, exploding drops, and auror tools he'd never really had a reason to use until now.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, hand hovering just above the door handle when he suddenly came to the realization that he had absolutely no idea what he was about to do nor any sort of plan. Sighing, he sat back down and began to carefully, but hurriedly, flip through the files and documents on the mysterious group.

They called themselves the Kontrabanda which quite roughly translated to "smugglers" in english. How fitting. Arthur was trying to get a grip on how many members were in the group, but could only come up with a brief estimate of around 13, but he had a good guess that there were many more than that.

Skimming through a document he stopped at a picture that appeared to be grainy security footage taken from a muggle wearhouse, just outside London. He could see members of the group loading packages and covered krates into enchanted trucks. Arthur tapped the picture with his wand, and watched as a single label shone out above the others, Transport Farm.

It didn't take long for Arthur to find an address before he apparated, conveniently right in front of the seemingly abandoned warehouse in east London.

One of the windows was cracked open, and all of them seemed to be covered by thick, black drapes from inside. The bricks on the outside were slightly stained, and a rusty drainage pipe leaked along the side, where a stray cat sipped at the puddle of water pooled under it.

Arthur took a few steps and found himself in front of one of the shabby garage doors. Carefully, he slipped his fingers underneath the crease, cringing when he felt his hand meet something sticky, and pulled.

After a few attempts his arms felt strained, and he'd barely lifted the door. Cursing, he realized he was gonna have to find another way in, he couldn't risk being seen with magic, even here.

"Need a hand?"

Arthur jumped, his hand snapping towards automatically his pocket. He stopped when he saw the man was merely a curious muggle. Sighing, he let his hand drop from his pocket. "No, thank you." He replied, and just to show he could, he went back to the door and tried once again to lift it.

Suddenly, it felt miraculously lighter and Arthur grinned as it was pushed high enough for a man to slip under. His grin fell when he looked to his left to find the muggle there, who nodded his head inside.

Arthur glared, but stepped inside anyways. The odd stranger followed him, and the garage door fell with a mighty crack, Arthur flinched at the noise and the dust it kicked up, the crack echoing through the empty warehouse before settling into a nearly eery silence.

"You're welcome." He turned to face the muggle, who was staring at him with startling blue eyes. The stranger was taller than himself, with a stronger build and corn-flour hair that shone in the stale rays of sunlight wafting through the blocked windows.

He ignored him, and quickly began in inspection. His hand itched back to his wand, he'd be in and out of here if he could only use it, but he managed to refrain himself. His feet crunched under discarded wrappers and dust. He could hear the muggle taking tentative steps around the large room as well.

"Hey," the man said, "would you look at that?"

Arthur whipped around to find the other holding up an impressively large feather, the color of flames. It glinted and caught the waves of light, sending orange shards dancing along the walls. He recognized it immediately.

"Phoenix feather." he breathed as he came to stand next to the muggle, gingerly taking it in his hands.

"Sorry, but phoniex feather? They don't exist. It's probably just a parrot or something-"

Arthur cursed, but carefully tucked the feather away. "Ah, yes my mistake." he replied, turning away. His senses seemed heightened all of a sudden. The feather had lifted his spirits, it meant he was on the right track.

A few minutes later Arthur had failed to find anything else hiding in the large room, he'd nearly forgotten the muggle was there he was so caught up when he spoke again, "I'm Alfred."

"Excuse me?"

"Alfred." he repeated. "Jones? It's my name."

"I think I can tell a name when I hear it." he remarked, turning to look at Alfred. "I'm Arthur. Afraid I can't tell you my last name." It was true. Odd ministry rules.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably, dirt crunching under his shoes. "Haha, alright." he paused for a moment before finding his voice once again. "I'm sorry, but why are you in here in the first place? It's sort of a dump."

Before Arthur could come up with some witty response to dodge the question, a clang echoed from somewhere above the duo. It sounded like metal on metal, and both men froze.

"It was probably just some old plumbing." Alfred said weekly, "If you don't mind I'm gonna go, I've got something with work I'm supposed to be at at noon." He got exactly three steps before Arthur tackled him, just as a sharp blast of green light exploded where Alfred had previously been standing.

"What the fuck?"

Arthur was off him in a moment, whipping his wand out of his pocket, he shot out an equally as damaging spell. It was useless, he wasn't even sure who he was firing at.

He climbed a rusty set of stairs, cursing slightly when he heard the confused muggle's steps behind him. Poor guy would probably need to be oblivated once this was all over.

Arthur's form was rigid as he approached the second landing. He stopped when his eyes fell on a witch, her eyes were the color of lilac but they screamed in a cold fiery. Silvery hair whipped around her shoulders, and a black lolita dress hung on her thin form.

Perhaps the only thing that scared Arthur more than the witch, was the creature in the cage her wand was currently pointed at.

He immediately recognized it as a wampus, which was one of the four beasts of Ilvermorny. Normally the cat was proud and majestic, but now it sat crouched and snarling in a cage much too small for the beast. It's irate yellow eyes bore into Arthur and he felt the sudden need to open the cage and free the depraved beast.

The witch snapped him out of it when words tumbled out of her mouth, coated in an accent Arthur couldn't quite place, "You turn and leave." She glanced back at Alfred. "Take the muggle with you."

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?" Alfred implored.

They both ignored him as Arthur whipped out his ministry badge. "Look Love," he said calmly I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you, smuggling a Wampus is a strict personal offense-"

"You." she said icily. "Are stupid."

Before Arthur could react the cage flew open, and the Wampus bounded out, six strong legs and balanced tail propelled the cat forward as it leaped right at Alfred, the muggle's face became a mixture of horror and fascination before Arthur screamed a curse and the cat stopped midair, giving Alfred a moment to back away.

His attention was pulled back towards the witch, who appeared to be trying to gather up crates and boxes of animals and objects. There was no way she could leave without it, but no way she could disapparate with all of it either. Arthur fired another curse at the witch, and the crates and boxes hung over her head. Her gaze whipped over, and she fired her own spell, this one hitting Arthur square in the chest.

He felt a burst of pain as he slammed into the brick building, the breath fell from his chest and for a horrifying moment he was unable to move, their was only pain and the sound of a cat snarling, and a confused american accent calling his name.

It was the call, not the cat lunging towards him that snapped Arthur from his brief state of shock. He ducked away just in time to avoid the beast barreling into the wall, where he'd been crouched moments before.

Strong arms lifted him up and Arthur saw the muggle desperately trying to move him. He felt his leaden legs begin to return and he kicked at the ground before finding his footing, taking a vast amount of weight off the muggle.

The witch was gone, and so were the crates and trunks of illegal items. The Wampus seemed to be caught in some sort of odd state between high and blacked out. Arthur managed to grab his wand and fire a final stunning curse, the giant cat fell to the floor with a resonating thud.

The only sounds were the gasps of breath between the two men and the distant hum of traffic from outside. It seemed to take each of them a moment before they were able to find their voice.

Alfred spoke first, a confused and muddled declaration of "Holy cow."

Arthur turned and gave the muggle an odd look. "Please do not tell me that after having to fend off a Wampus, I will not also have to deal with a holy cow."

Alfred returned the odd and confused countenance. "Dude, it's an expression." he explained. "And what is a "Wampus" and who was that weird lady, and why are you shooting shit out of a stick?"

Arthur sighed, returning his wand to his coat pocket, barely sparing the bewildered american a second glance. "I'm sorry to part from you like this but I'm on a horribly tight schedule and the sooner we can obliviate you the better-"

Alfred's face melted from baffled to horrified and defensive. He took a few steps back from Arthur. "You're going to do what to me?"

"Wipe your memories of course, you can carry on with your life like none of this ever happened." The wizard explained.

But Alfred vigorously shook his head. "You're not gonna mess with my memories, and I don't want to forget what just happened. I have a feeling you're in some deep shit right now and I've never been one to abandon someone in need."

Arthur glared at the muggle. "I'm going to obliviate you, nor do I need your help. It would be best if you just sat still Mr. Jones and we'll both be on our way."

Alfred planted his feet firmly into the ground and gave one, clear command. "No."

"No?" He echoed.

"I forbid you." He said. Arthur was just about to tell him that he really was in no position to forbid Arthur from anything, when Alfred kept going. "Besides, you owe me for saving you back there."

Arthur fell silent. As much as he wanted to prove the muggle wrong, he knew he couldn't and the man had made a valid point. In many ways he knew that he now owed this total stranger now. He cursed the man for not being as dense as he first let on.

It was pride above anything that kept him from obliviating him right there. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing if he never paid the man back.

He turned to find a smirk had taken over Alfred's face. They both knew he was right, and it seemed as it the muggle was not about to let Arthur live it down.

"Alright." He managed to ground out. "You can help me on one condition."

Alfred nodded eagerly, the smirk changing into a beaming smile that Arthur knew women probably found irresistible. "You do exactly as I tell you and you don't get in the way."

"Seems simple enough." Alfred agreed before he suddenly thrust out his hand. Arthur stared at it for a good moment before realizing Alfred wanted to shake on it. He shook, knowing know that there really was no going back. It may not be an unbreakable vow, but he wasn't about to inflict that on not only a muggle, but somehow he'd just met.

 **An:/ This is my first story posted here on _ff_. I've read quite a few fanfictions on here, many were amazing. I decided to give a crack at writing my own. I'm excited to see where this story goes and I hope you say the same. Also, criticism is welcome! I'm always open to suggestions. **


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur coughed, as his wand swept over yet another dusty corner. The warehouse seemed endless, a wandering maze of corners and dead rats. Judging from the occasional grumble or annoyed groan from the second floor, Alfred wasn't having much luck either.

After the two had found a moment to compose themselves (especially Alfred) Arthur had taken a few minutes to explain the situation to him. He told him of the smugglers and his deadline with the ministry, and glossed over the wizarding world, his world. Alfred had been infatuated, asking question after question, unable to comprehend that their was a whole other world lying just beneath his supposed that he couldn't be annoyed because he would have probably reacted in much the same way.

However, he still reminded Alfred that they had a problem to deal with, and as much as he would love to tell Alfred about quidditch and hogwarts, as well as pumpkin juice and unicorns, they had much more pressing matters at hand.

He walked into another room, this one was small and cramped, with some muggle-boxes stacked in the corners. The cardboard was beginning to rot and sag. The room was dark and dank, and smelled damply of wet cardboard and old food. Arthur had to strain greatly in order to make out what appeared to be leftover chinese, a few brown noodles still clinging onto the red and white takeout box.

" _Lumos."_ he muttered, gingerly picking up the takeout box , cringing slightly as it stuck to the floor. The noodles that clung onto the box looked as if they'd only been cooked a few days ago. Arthur moved to set the box down again, laughing at himself for even picking it up, when a piece of thin, crumpled paper fluttered to the floor.

Arthur swallowed thickly, suddenly very aware of everything around him. From Alfred's distant footsteps to the faint drip of a leaking pipe above him. The piece of paper felt heavy in his hand, as he brought up the pale blue glow of the wand to read the sloppily scribbled text.

It was an address, and a name. Written sloppily and nearly illegible, but strangely and sickeningly familiar.

 _Lukas Bondevik_

He rolled the name over and over again in his mind, willing the memories to disappear. If it weren't for the fact that Arthur knew that name, that wizard, that very pub the adress lead to, he would of thought it was just another muggle. But no, he knew this person. Images flashed infront of him. Of friendship, betrayal.

He allowed for the takeout to fall to the ground with a dull _thump_ before he waved his hand and suddenly spun out into oblivion, the shapes and colors of the room stretching and shrinking, like a taffy being pulled through a taffy maker, and a dizzying pop when suddenly he found himself in the room below the previous one, the note still held firmly in his hand.

Alfred jumped, whirling around to face Arthur, his blue eyes opened wide. "Jesus," he cried, "you scared me! How did you _even_ do that?"

"No time," Arthur explained quickly, showing the note to Alfred. He read it slowly, the words registering in his mind and his eyes widened, before he looked up at Arthur.

"Arthur, dude, this is great! We've got a lead!" he beamed, and for one horrible moment Arthur was sure he was going to hug him, but Alfred seemed able to control himself. "We've gotta go check this place out."

"Alfred, it may not be anything." though, he knew it was. He was also sure he just very well didn't want to be forced to face Lukas again.

He only waved him off dismissively, handing the note back. "It's all we've got. We've gotta give it a try." he said earnestly, "Considering we've searched this entire warehouse and this is the only scrap that's turned up. Here just a sec."

Arthur watched skeptically as Alfred dug around in the pockets of his navy blue sweatshirt, before pulling out an odd little device and typing into it. He wanted to ask Alfred what it was, he'd seen plenty of muggles using them before, but decided against it. As he'd said earlier, they had more pressing matters on hand then Pumpkin Juice and muggle technology.

"What was the address again?" Alfred asked, looking back up at Arthur. He blanked for a moment, before quickly thrusting the paper back towards Alfred. He typed something else into the curious device before forcing it into Arthur's vision. The tiny screen glowed brightly, showing off a small pub in West London.

"What is that?" he demanded.

Alfred pocketed the phone. "It's the place that that address links up too."

"Oh." was all Arthur could say. He wanted to take the device from Alfred and poke around at it but instead just nodded. "Yes, very well. Best be off then."

"I can call a taxi-"

"No." Arthur interjected. A tangle of thoughts began to shovel themselves through his mind. Could a wizard even disapparate with a muggle? He thought back to all the times he'd disapparated with someone. It had always been just one person's magic, the others always acting like just passengers, being pulled along solely by the wizard's magic. It could work. "I know a faster way."

"What's that?" Alfred asked curiously, as he slowly took his hand away from his pocket.

Arthur reached out and clasped Alfred's arm. He jerked instinctively, looking up bemusedly. "I'm going to have to ask you to hold on, now." Arthur said. Alfred opened up his mouth as if to ask a question, when suddenly they both felt as if they were yanked very sharply upward. Arthur never quite got used to the feeling of flying through time and space, but at least once they landed outside of the pub, he didn't take two steps and fall flat on his face just as Alfred had.

Arthur tried to stifle a laugh as the muggle stumbled back to his feet, he looked as though he was about to be ill. Anyone looking on the scene would probably think Alfred had gotten himself wasted when it was barely one o' clock.

"What was _that_?" Alfred gasped once he was finally able to find his voice. His blonde hair was ruffled and his glasses looked as if they were about to fall off his face.

Arthur lowered his voice. "Disapparation. Try not to look so freaked out." Alfred only looked at him as though he were a madman.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." he said.

"Nonsense." Arthur said, patting him reassuringly on the back as he pushed open the door to the pub. Despite it being the middle of the day, the restaurant was baked in a dim golden light, and it smelled of rum and snacks. Muggles and wizards alike mingled around, however the wizards appeared to only talk quietly amongst themselves, occasionally snaking glances. One landed his eyes on Alfred and Arthur, and Arthur felt Alfred tense beside him at the hard glare. Arthur determinedly ignored the wizard, and ushered Alfred to a small table in the back corner.

A waitress appeared and smiled at the pair. Arthur quited his voice and asked for a Butterbeer, he glared slightly at Alfred's confused to look before the waitress turned to him.

"And what can I get you, dear?" she asked, batting her heavy eyelashes.

"Oh, just a Coke please." she nodded, but before she turned to leave Arthur stopped her.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked, not bothering to hide her upturned nose at Arthur. He sighed, but dropped his voice to a low whisper, causing the waitress to bend down slightly to hear.

"May I speak with a Lukas Bondevik, please?" he muttered.

The girl's' eyes widened, and she pulled back quickly. "I'm sorry sir, Lukas cannot be spoken too-"

"It's urgent." he spoke, and Arthur sent her a glare that told her there was no way around this. She returned the glare but nodded, whisking away from the table sharply.

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Arthur let out a breath of relief, and ran his hand clumsily through his messy blonde hair. He really needed a drink, and judging by Alfred's expression and the way he seemed to be deeply pondering the menu, he was feeling just as starved.

After a minute the waitress came back with their drinks and Alfred hastily ordered what was surely the whole menu. She left before Arthur could ask about Lukas.

"You know," Alfred said around his straw, "I didn't really properly introduce myself back there."

"Sure you did." Arthur said, lowering his glass. "Your name is Alfred. You're american, and you're also extremely hungry." he stated.

Alfred managed a laugh. "You're not wrong. But there's a lot more than just that." Arthur raised an eyebrow, taking another sip from his glass. "My full name is Alfred Foster Jones, I'm twenty-two years old, I'm from California and my favorite color is blue. I'm here in London for a year and half for work purposes before they send me back to the states." he paused before smiling up at Arthur, "You go."

Arthur leaned back, processing this sudden information on the man in front of him. "Alright." he said. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I'm twenty-five. I grew up in Oxford but went to school in Scotland. I'm here in London for work as well, but I don't plan on leaving." Alfred nodded as Arthur finished, taking a thoughtful sip of his Coke.

"How does school work for wizards?" Alfred asked loudly. Arthur jumped and glared icily at him, leaning across the table.

"Not so loud would you?" his eyes darted around fearfully. Perhaps taking Alfred along had been a stupid idea in the end…

"Right sorry." he laughed. "But, it's gotta be pretty different from our schools, right? I bet you never had to learn trigonometry."

Arthur decided against asking what "trigonometry" was, and was about to explain Hogwarts to Alfred when the waitress arrived again, looking less than pleased. "If you'll follow me I can show you too Lukas." Arthur glanced at Alfred, who was already standing up. Arthur took a final sip of his beer, before sliding off the high chair and following the waitress towards a back office behind the kitchens, which smelled wonderfully of various foods.

The office was small and cramped, but everything was kept in neat files and drawers. On the walls there was a poster of some trolls, although it didn't move like the ones Arthur was used to. On the man's desk rested a photo of another blonde man with wild hair and a bright smile. When the man at the desk saw Arthur looking at it, he swiftly turned it around.

The waitress turned around and wished them goodbye, before once more hurrying away, she made sure the door locked behind her. He turned back around to see a thin man with pale blonde hair and even paler skin and dull blue eyes. "What do you want?" the man asked, although there was no emotion in his voice. "I do not have all day."

Arthur pulled the leaf of dirty paper from his pocket and handed it to him. Lukas hardly glanced at it. "You are under Ministry investigation." Arthur said. "We have been tracking a group of smugglers, and your name and this address was found in their last known location. What do you have to say about that?"

Lukas' expression hardly changed. Instead he handed the note back and told the two it would be best if they sat down. Alfred and Arthur sat, although both seemed greatly hesitant.

Lukas leaned forward, a faraway look reached his eyes. "The _Kontrabanda_." he muttered. "Yes, I remember them. They sometimes come here to drink. Sometimes to trade."

"To trade?" Arthur asked.

Lukas nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid they don't come as often as they once did. I suppose that's because their plan if finally being put into motion."

"A plan?" Alfred interjected, leaning forward in the chair. "What sort of plan?"

"Afraid I can't tell you that." Lukas said.

"Nonsense!" Arthur spoke. "I'm here on ministry orders, and have every right to know every scrap of information you possess."

Lukas' expression never faltered, he only sighed. "You do not understand anything."

Arthur's mouth fell open, he wanted to show Lukas how much he knew. How petty such a thing was to say. To laugh in his very flare up and laugh in his face when he realized how bloody wrong he was, but never got the chance as Lukas pushed forward. Oblivious to Arthur's rage.

"The _Kontrabanda_ isn't a new group at all. It's simply been dormant. All previous records of the group were wiped out entirely by past members." Lukas shifted idly in his seat, crossing his leg across the other. "They were wiped of course, because the ministry wanted everyone to forget about it. You see, the ministry is not keen on highlighting it's failures, and it's old struggle with the _Kontrabanda_ was just another scrap the ministry glossed over and forgot about."

Arthur felt as if everything around him had shifted in only a few sentences. How had he not known about whatever this past struggle was? How had all the documents been wiped clear, and no one at the ministry so much as batted an eye when this old group, one that had caused some mishap within the ministry, stirred yet again? Where they really so blinded?

"A small part of the group snuck into the ministry and stole some very important prophecies and documents, as well as things the ministry would rather deny they ever possessed. As you can imagine, there was a large scuffle, and four aurors and one head of department lost their lives that night."

"You're kidding." Alfred said. Lukas only shook his head. The information seemed to come crashing into Arthur like the weight of a tide. None of it made sense. Surely someone knew about this, _someone_ who would not want another five to risk their lives.

"But why," Arthur found himself saying suddenly, "Is no one besides ourselves speaking of this? Why were they stealing those things from the ministry in the first place?"

"I cannot answer those questions." Lukas said dryly, taking a sip of dark coffee. "But I can say that the ministry is hiding many things. Things they would rather keep hidden from even the most loyal wizards."

Arthur chewed his lip, running the information through his mind, trying to pull the pieces and fix them back together, try to make _sense_ of the situation.

"Like what?" Alfred asked, leaning forward in the chair he'd stolen.

Lukas' expression took on a faraway look, as if he were being dragged back to another moment, another time. Alfred fidgeted next to Arthur, but the expression and daze disappeared just as soon as it had been there. However, his eyes never lost that distant, yet troubled to them.

"Things you wished you hadn't seen."

Arthur paled, although tried not to look so unsettled by the statement. Arthur had joined Hogwarts a few years after the great battle, and even then the school bore scars. But it wasn't just the structure of the building, that still held crumpled walls and broken windows, but he could see it in the teachers, the older students. The seriousness that they taught defense against the dark arts. He didn't want that to happen again. He couldn't imagine another full-scaled wizarding battle. Was this the magnitude of the situation? Or was his mind simply supplying a worse-case scenario?

However Lukas seemed to read his mind (perhaps he was a seer afterall) as his next words came with a sigh, "I do not know the full gravity of what could happen if they release what the ministry has been hiding for far too long, but it could very well be enough to cause an unneeded and dangerous uprising, putting the _Kontrabanda_ in power." he lowered his gaze, "and that is something no one wants to see."

Arthur chanced a gaze at Alfred, whose countenance wore the odd expression between confused and utterly and permanently determined. "We can't let that happen." he said. "Arthur, we gotta do something."

Arthur bloody well knew they had to do something. He also bloody well knew he had absolutely no idea what that something was. There was still one last unanswered question poking dangerously at the back of his mind.

Before he could ask it, Alfred asked one instead. "Where can we find them?"

Lukas thought about it for a moment, mulling it over in his brain before he answered. "Follow the Thames, towards the west."

"The Thames?" Alfred asked, puzzled by this vague answer.

"Yes, the Thames." he said idly. "Anything else or can you rid me of your presence?"

The question poked back and he knew it was one he needed answered. "Lukas," he began, "That's all very brilliant, but this doesn't answer the question as to why they are smuggling in the first place, if the whole goal is to simply expose the ministry?"

A ghost of a smile passed over the man's face. "Ah," he said, "Once again, I do not know. What I am telling you is simply information I've overheard or been drunkenly told while they were on one of their trading adventures and got much too drunk for what could be wise."

Arthur fumed at the idea that all of this information they were getting could not exactly be accurate before he told himself that this was the most they could get.

"What about your name?" Alfred suddenly said. "We found your name in their last known location and your address. Arthur has every reason to be suspicious of you and the influx of information you are telling us." he managed a laugh. "Better yet, how do we know you're not lying through your teeth? A red herring?"

Arthur could only gawk as it registered that Alfred was right. He wasn't as dull-witted as he let onto believe and by the narrowing of Lukas' eyes, Arthur knew Alfred had struck a nerve. "You will simply have to trust me." he said, slowly standing, Arthur mirrored him and Alfred tensed on behind him.

"You have given me little reason to trust you, friend." Arthur replied icily, his hand inching towards the wand in his pocket. Lukas' hand was already on his.

"We have not been friends for a very long time." Lukas said, his face remained indifferent, but his eyes gave him away. What Arthur saw in them felt sickeningly familiar as his mind flashed to old friendships, and old enemies. Battles he thought had been resolved. "Who's fault is that?" he asked.

Arthur tensed, freeing his wand and shouting a curse that narrowly missed the side of Lukas' head.

Lukas fired one back, the flash of red light nearly blinding Arthur in the small, dim office room. Behind him, he heard Alfred shriek.

Arthur fired another spell, and Lukas deflected it. Time after time again the two whisked and pulled magic at one another. A bead of sweat formed on the tip of Arthur's fringe.

He managed to get one on him, and the other wizard was fired backwards, slamming against the wall. Arthur didn't waste a moment. He forced a stunned looking Alfred out the office door and the two barreled out, running through the pub and causing countless eyes to latch onto them.

They fell out into the street, and Arthur turned to see Lukas emerging out of his office.

"Arthur, what's going on? What were you two just talking about out there?" Alfred asked, his eyes weren't on Lukas' approaching figure, but on Arthur's shaking one.

Arthur's mind was racing faster than his pounding heart. He watched as a red double decker bus filled with passengers. Thinking fast, he grabbed Alfred's hand and ran for it just as Lukas came out of the doors.

But the muggle and the wizard were already sliding between the closing doors of the moving bus, pulling away from the fuming man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: Of Coke and Rain**

It began to rain. Thick, heavy drops fell from the gray sky, clotting against the window and turning the sidewalk silver. Arthur's breaths began to finally slow. He had payed for two tickets, before pushing Alfred up the stairs and onto the second level. Where he now sat rigid to Arthur's left, still pale and distant.

"Sorry, lad." Arthur said after a long moment of silence, and only when the pub, and Lukas, were far behind.

Alfred looked over, and somehow managed a grin. "It's all good. Just a little shocked is all."

He shook his head, glancing back out onto the rainy streets. "I didn't think that was anything compared to a lunatic witch and an angry wampus."

Alfred shrugged, his shoulder brushing Arthur's own. "I'm starting to think all you magical folk are crazy."

Arthur was grateful that the only other passenger was an older women with curly gray hair who appeared too distracted knitting a yellow hat to notice them, and a boy with bright green hair, nearly falling asleep to the punk music blasting through his earphones.

"You've only met three of us." Arthur pointed out, turning back towards Alfred, whose color seemed to have returned.

"I'm starting think maybe I'm the crazy one." he said.

"Crazy people don't think they're crazy, therefor you're not." Arthur countered, pulling another small grin and laugh from Alfred.

"Guess I can't argue that."

"No." Arthur agreed. "You can't."

Silence settled between the two and Arthur turned to gaze back out the window, watching dully as the gray streets of London winked by. They'd spent more time at Lukas' than he'd originally thought, as now it was nearly dinner time, judging by the poking hunger in Arthur's stomach from not eating all day.

"Before we go anywhere else," Alfred began, almost reading Arthur's mind, "can we go get some food? I'm starving, dude."

Arthur was too tired to bother correcting him on his grammar and instead agreed, need winning over want. "Where would you like to go?"

Alfred peered over Arthur and out onto the street as a familiar, golden beacon of yellow and red light poked through the rainy haze. Arthur followed his eyes and felt his mood darken.

"Absolutely not." he said, but Alfred was already standing up and shaking his head. A new found determination lit up his eyes. "Alfred." he warned dangerously. " _No_."

"C'mon Artie." Alfred whined, "We're both starving."

Arthur's stomach grumbled rather loudly and he sighed, standing up as the bus came to a stop. "Don't call me Artie."

"Anything, Art-" he said with a grin before reading Arthur's cold gaze, "thur."

Arthur cringed as an old french fry crunched under his black shoes. He'd picked out a table near the back of the restaurant while he waited for Alfred to grab the food. He was nearly certain that the surface of the plastic red seat was covered in grease and the tears of children who didn't get a unicorn in their happy meal.

The rain continued to beat a steady rhythm against the pavement, making it shine like silver under the now dark sky. Muggles hurried home under broad umbrellas, heads ducked beneath the onslaught and feet splashing against puddles.

Arthur ran his hand through his damp hair and sighed longingly. If he'd known he'd be caught up in possibly the biggest ministry scandal since Voldemort, he wouldn't have made a suicidal deal with his boss.

"You doing all right, there?" Arthur jumped at the sound of Alfred's voice, pulling his hand sharply out of his hair.

"Yes, I'm fine- what the bloody hell is that?" He gasped pointing an accusing finger at the massive _pile_ of food loaded onto Alfred's tray. It looked like a monster, a mound of french fries and chicken nuggets threatening to spill over the plastic tray.

Alfred laughed nervously, setting the tray down and sliding across from Arthur on the cheap plastic seats. "Ha, you've never seen me eat." Was he blushing? "It's kinda embarrassing. Plus, this is sort of like comfort food to me."

Arthur wanted to question Alfred more about just the kind of things he was eating, but his hunger won out as he grabbed a hamburger and unwrapped it.

The muggle and the wizard sat in silence for a long while. The only sounds were the occasional unwrapping and opening of more food, and the grinding noise of a nearly empty drink. As gross as the food was, Arthur didn't think he'd ever eaten so much before. Except possibly on boxing day.

Even when Arthur finally called it quits, and was near sure he would explode if he ate anymore of that vile muggle food, Alfred kept going. It was a bit scary really, watching him eat as if it would be his final meal.

At last, Alfred finished. The only thing left was a new pile, this one of empty wrappers and chicken nugget boxes, and a few french fries still clinging to the grease-covered bottom of the brown tray.

"I've never eaten so much in my life." Arthur said.

Alfred leant back against the seat. "I have."

Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. "Of course you have."

He watched as Alfred started to poke idly at the leftover wrappers before he got up and strode across the restaurant to throw them away. Arthur watched him leave and briefly wondered how someone so handsome could eat like that.

Wait, when did he stop being annoying and become handsome?

Alfred came back and Arthur hid his face, trying to look busy with something underneath the table, but only stared at his own lap and a piece of pink gum sticking to the linoleum floor. Arthur was just beginning to question what sort of flavor the wad was when Alfred cleared his throat, forcing him to look up and meet his eyes.

"So I was wondering," Alfred scratched the back of his neck and laughed slightly. "If you find this food weird, what uh, what do wizards normally eat?"

Arthur tensed, peering around. But none of the other customers were paying them any mind. Most were waiting for their food, tapping their feet and checking their watches every five seconds.

"Well let's see," he said, relaxing slightly back into the seat. "we eat roast meat just as you, and pie. Although some of our pies are a bit different. You should try a steak and kidney pie if you're ever given the chance."

Alfred made a face. "Dude, that sounds nasty. There's nothing better than chicken and waffles."

Arthur grimaced in return. Who knew muggles were so odd? He thought of all the muggle hate, it had gotten better, but there were still many hate groups who would mess with muggles just to get a rouse out of them, then the ministry would have to interject and make it all look as if nothing happened. He'd seen so many memory-wipings in his lifetime, some were against the person's will, sometimes they go wrong. They erase to much and the person is left brain-dead or mental. He imagined that happening to Alfred, and his stomach twisted terribly. That would not happen to Alfred.

"Actually, the only thing better than chicken and waffles is a fluffernutter." Arthur pulled himself away from that train of thought to look at Alfred, who had a wistful expression on his face. "Man, I miss home sometimes."

"You're not a tourist?" Arthur asked. He'd assumed Alfred was just another one of those tourists he saw on the streets, with big cameras and funny accents.

He shook his head. "No, I moved to London about a year ago for work. They've got me doing international business."

Arthur nodded, playing with a forgotten straw wrapper. "What do you do for work?"

"I am an aeronautical engineer!" he stated proudly, sitting up a bit straighter.

Arthur blinked. He had absolutely no idea what any of those words meant, and the confusion must have shown on his face because Alfred only laughed. "Yeah, I guess y'all wouldn't have much of a need for that kinda thing." he said. "Pretty much, do you know those big machines that have wings and fly?" Arthur could recall the many airplanes he'd seen fly over London. Although muggles didn't have any magic, they certainly made up for it with all their various other inventions.

"I help build and design those things." he said proudly, with a new sort of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes.

"That's impressive." Arthur said dryly, although he was just able to stop his eyes widening in surprise and asking Alfred a million questions. It looked as though Arthur was just as oblivious to Alfred's world as Alfred was to his.

"Yeah, it's not always easy but I get by." He replied. "Hey, you've gotta tell me what your job is now." he pointed out, leaning back once again. He'd practically been about to fall off the seat before.

Arthur sighed, flicking the wad of paper across the table. He was _not_ about to tell Alfred about his current standings in the ministry. He did not want to hear his pity, or how he would laugh at his unfortunate circumstances. But looking back up at Alfred's eager expression, he knew he couldn't simply avoid the question either.

"Well, I work for the wizarding government you see, and I help track and capture dark wizards." he explained, slumping slightly and peering past Alfred at the family that had sat down a few tables away.

"Dude really?" Alfred gasped, leaning back across the table. "You're like a police officer? Man, that sounds like such a cool job. I must sound really boring now."

Arthur felt himself go a bit red, switching his gaze from Alfred back towards his hands, which had run out of things to fiddle with.. Usually when he told other wizards they just laughed. _Him? An auror? Impossible._

"I wouldn't call an aeronautical engineer boring per say." he said. "Frankly, I don't see much action anyways. This is about my first proper case."

"Really?" Alfred asked. "You work like you've been doing it your whole life." Arthur flushed. If only the ministry could think of him like that. Perhaps then he'd be able to afford a nicer flat and move further from the city. Maybe he wouldn't even know how it felt to be ignored. Poor boring old Arthur.

"Ah well, thank you, Alfred." he said at last, his hands finally dropping into his lap in defeat.

"No problem." he beamed brightly. "By the way, where are we gonna spend the night? We can go back to my flat unless you'd rather go to yours, because that's cool too-"

"Spend the night?" Arthur gasped. He had to admit, he really hadn't planned ahead at all. He'd been solely focused on escaping from Lukas, as well as being able to stop his stomach from twisting itself uncomfortably with hunger.

"Well yeah, duh. We can't just split up like they do in the movies. That's how they'd get us you see."

"What?"

"Don't split up. That's the first rule of thumb." Alfred said, looking at Arthur sternly, his blue boring into him almost uncomfortably. "That's how people get killed, even if we're not in Hollywood. We're in this together at this point. No splitting up."

"Oh, well, Alright." Arthur said a bit thickly, taken aback with the sincerity of Alfred's words.

Alfred only smiled. Did he ever stop smiling? "Cool. My flat's a bit of ways from here but we could take the tube-"

"No." Arthur said. "My flat's only a few blocks from here. We'll go there, get up early, and then start looking around."

Alfred nodded. "Great."

The wizard and the muggle trudged the five blocks through London traffic and slippery sidewalks back towards Arthur's flat. Most of the wizards lived outside of London, as it was so easy for them to apparate or use the floo network without having to constantly hide from the wandering eyes of muggles, but Arthur both couldn't leave the city and didn't want to.

He unlocked the door with a key, and Alfred followed him up a set of winding stairs until they reached 3A, this time he didn't bother fishing out his key and simply muttered "Alohomora" and the door swung easily open. He forced Alfred through before he could gawk too much and shut the door firmly behind them. He flicked his wand again and the lamps and lanterns flickered on.

At first glance, Arthur's flat looked like any other, most of the walls were painted a pale celadon green, and the arm chair and sofa looked comfy enough, Arthur also had an overwhelming amount of bookshelves, which all seemed to be ready to burst with how many books he'd shoved inside. But upon closer inspection, Alfred noticed that there was no dishwasher in the kitchen, no television, the photos on the walls were very much moving, as if they were alive, odd little plants sat on the windowsill and counters, and perhaps to top it all off, an owl hooted fondly from it's perch near the bathroom.

Arthur was too busy shoving off his wet coat and boots to notice Alfred's staring, and it was only when he gave him a light nudge that Alfred shook his head and took off his own sneakers and bomber jacket.

Arthur tried vainly to wring out his bangs but only ended up pulling them instead while he set a kettle on the stove, which he lit with another flick of his wand.

"Where's your dishwasher?" Alfred asked while Arthur pulled out two cups.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Wizards don't have much of a need for that. We just use magic." he replied easily, setting two tea bags into the cups.

"What about television?"

"Nope."

"Phone?"

"That's what an owl's for." Arthur said, turning around to look at Alfred again.

"Wow." he finally said, shaking his head. "You guys are even more different than I thought."

"Indeed." Arthur replied, turning around to pull the kettle off the stove as it began to whistle shrilly. He carefully poured two cups, let it them steep for exactly two minutes, then added a bit of milk, no sugar. Although, he put sugar in Alfred's anyways.

The two sat down, Arthur sipped carefully at his cup, but didn't miss how Alfred grimaced and carefully set the cup back down after taking a sip.

Silence hung heavily over them, only broken by the sounds of the calming rain outside and Alfred's nervous fidgeting. Finally he cleared his throat, and Arthur paused to glance back up over the rim of his cup.

"I think that tomorrow we should go to the Thames." Alfred said, and Arthur spluttered, barely managing to keep the tea off his sweater.

"Absolutely not. It could very well be a trap, Alfred." Arthur replied angrily after wiping his face.

"No, I'm serious!" Alfred insisted, shifting on the armchair. "If it turns out to be a trap, we'll at least have a better understanding of what to do next or even what they want from this ministry place."

Arthur shook his head, standing up with his empty teacup. Alfred followed him to the kitchen while he set the cup down into the sink. "It's awfully risky. Too many holes. I say we sleep tonight and figure something out in the morning."

Alfred squinted and noticed the light bags that had appeared under Arthur's eyes. He sighed. "Fine. We'll sleep on it, but I doubt you'll be able to come up with a better plan."

"We'll see." Was Arthur's dry reply.

Arthur changed out of his soaking green sweater and slacks and into a much more comfortable (and dry!) baggy shirt and flannel pants and sighed longingly. He'd given Alfred some of his brother's clothes that he'd left over from an old visit months ago.

Alfred came in a few minutes later, looking slightly uncomfortable in Alistar's scottish national quidditch team shirt. It was then that Arthur suddenly realized that he only had one bed. Judging by Alfred's more than hesitant expression, he realized this fact too.

Arthur climbed in anyways, his legs ached too much to dwell on it as he turned over to face the wall. "You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine."

Alfred lay down on the other side and turned his back to Arthur. He heard him sigh tiredly and pull of his glasses. Arthur reached for his wand, already heavily fighting off sleep, and flicked the lights off.

They were both asleep in a matter of minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV: Encounter**

 ** _An:/ I'll put this warning here that this chapter deals with some homophobia in Arthur's past. If any of that troubles you feel free to skip it, but it's important to his charecter._**

Alfred woke up the next morning in a bed he doesn't know with a stranger pressed against his back. He stiffens and the stranger grumbles, pressing tighter against him. He forces himself to slowly take a deep breath and relax. As soon as he does memories of the previous day come floating back to him.

He loosens slightly, if his recollections are correct than that must mean that the stranger curled around him must be Arthur. This thought instantly makes him freeze, if the wizard found them in this position he'd probably jynx Alfred. Then there was the other matter that this was _Arthur_ pressed against him.

He takes a deep breath, before carefully manoeuvring himself so he can pry Arthur's arms off of him. In doing so, Arthur suddenly snaps awake with a yelp and before Alfred can react he's on top of him with a wand at his throat, he's panting and his eyes are wide with panic. Alfred freezed like a stiff board underneath and it takes Arthur another moment to realize that it's Alfred and the wand slowly lowers. Although the look of panic is replaced by one of regret, one that he can tell must run much deeper than whatever just happened.

Arthur pulled himself awkwardly off the bed, his back too Alfred. Alfred watched him sigh and run a hand over his face and through his hair. His hand still wrapped tightly around his wooden wand.

Arthur pulled some clothes out of a dresser and left the room, leaving Alfred to ponder what the heck had just happened.

In the short time that he'd known him, Alfred had been able to draw the conclusion that Arthur was rather defensive, quickly. But what had just happened seemed more than that. His defensiveness had obviously spared from some point in his life, perhaps he hadn't had the easiest childhood. Alfred had no idea how wizards raised their children, and perhaps that was normal behavior for one. However, watching how Arthur had reacted once he'd realized what he'd just done made him think otherwise.

Alfred pulled on his clothes from yesterday back over his head, sighing slightly at the familiarity of his own shirt on himself. He left the room, his feet still dragging along Arthur's floors, albeit a bit clumsily with morning grogginess.

He found Arthur heating up the kettle again and looking determined not to talk about whatever had just happen. Alfred decided that it was probably beyond personal boundaries to ask why.

They stood in silence in the green kitchen, Arthur pretending to be busy while muttering enchantments as food swirled around the kitchen. Alfred watched, wide-eyed as the food began to cook itself and the kettle began to whistle, a stream of steam running out and wafting into the air..

What would have taken Alfred ages to make was ready within minutes. The food sat itself neatly on white plates and cutlery flew out from a drawer and landed neatly next to the plates. Unfortunately, Alfred wasn't entirely sure just what sort of food it was supposed to be. It looked like someone had given him the scraps at the bottom of their oven.

"It's not my best." Arthur admitted, sinking onto a chair across from Alfred with a hopeful expression on his face, "But it'll do. We should try to get an early start if we can."

"Er," Alfred said, poking at the blackened eggs. How does one even _burn_ scrambled eggs? "Right, yeah." Arthur's buoyant expression never faltered so Alfred carefully took a bite of what was supposed to be eggs, barely managing not to gag as he grabbed the tea to get it down.

"How is it?" Arthur asked.

"It's wonderful, thanks." he croaked.

The way Arthur's face lit up proudly made it almost worth it. Almost.

The morning was crisp and foggy, the cold biting at Arthur as he sunk lower into his black peacoat. The pavement was still wet from the previous night's storm, and it shone under the street lamps that hadn't been turned off yet. The fog doubled as it rolled off the Thames, a few early morning boats maneuvering serenely down the grey river. A bus honked a few blocks away.

"It's kinda cool getting to see the city wake up." Alfred said suddenly. "I'm never out this early."

Arthur dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "Don't be daft. London never sleeps."

"Nah." Alfred replied, kicking a stone. "That's New York."

"Oh." Arthur said, watching a few muggle cars roll by. "Have you ever been there?"

They took a right, following the path of the river. The rails along the large sidewalk still dripped slightly with moisture as Alfred ran his hand over it. "New York? Oh yeah. Now that's an interesting city. I once saw a man with a cat on his head and a woman walking her son _and_ her dog. Her son had a _leash_."

Arthur coughed, laughing a bit at the image. Muggles really were quite funny. Perhaps he should spend more time observing them than he did, maybe then he wouldn't feel as though he was so incessantly alone.

"Huh."

They walked awhile longer, the fog eventually began to lessen up, and even the grey clouds lightened slightly as a hint of morning sunshine poked through. It danced off the churning waters of the river, reflecting back almost painfully. Arthur blinked away the spots, once they cleared he stilled, there was a figure coming towards them.

It was cloaked in a long black shawl that covered the person's face. They walked with a hunch, and quick erotic steps. Shoes ominously clicking against the sidewalk.

Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him to a stop as the figure approached, his hand slipped protectively to where his wand lay in his coat pocket. He felt Alfred stiffen beside him.

Arthur realized the figure was a witch, and not a moment later did he realize it was _the_ witch. The one with dangerous purple eyes and silvery hair.

"It's her." Hissed Alfred. Arthur nodded heavily. Yet, there was something different about her, the way she carried herself and how she moved lowly over the pavement. When she looked up from under the black cloak Arthur withheld a gasp, her eyes held a thin film of milkiness, as though she wasn't truly there.

An arm snakes out from under the thick cloak and grabs Arthur's arm before he can react, yanking it away from his wand. He begins to pull back harshly and Alfred yells something from his left. The witch moves in, until she's all Arthur sees and she whispers, her accent sends knives through him, and her voice is low and cutting.

"Come with me."

The voice isn't hers.

"Arthur-" Alfred says, the edges of his name decorated with panic.

"Come with me." She squeezes harder, nails biting into Arthur's skin. "Master wants you."

"No." He replies firmly, trying to pull his arm away, but the woman's got him in a death grip, and Alfred is clutching onto him just the same, as though afraid she'll snatch Arthur away.

" _Come with me."_ she says again, more desperately, more forcefully.

"Who is your master?" Arthur demands, his voice rising in a shaking volume. Alfred tugs on him again, stronger this time.

Her closed off violet eyes peer into his, and it hits him as though a brick had fallen onto his head. The imperious curse.

"Look to your past and come with me."

Before Arthur can pull away, scream, curse her into tomorrow, the grey water of the Thames and the brown buildings blur away. Arthur feels as if he's been pulled down rather sharply, and stumbles into his own memory.

The colors pull and twist until he's back at his childhood home, his brothers watching with wide eyes well another bold, rebellious, reckless and younger Arthur stood up to his father, who was purple in anger. The distaste radiating off him was palpable, permeating the room like a thick gas.

"No son of my mine will be some bloody queer!" He shouted, grabbing at Arthur's collar. His brothers stepped out, but were thrown back with a simple wave of his father's wand.

"Father," Arthur was shocked by the voice of his younger self. He remembers every detail of this memory, as it had been seared hot into his brain, in one unforgettable moment of pain and hate. So much hate.

"This is who I am." he said "You're going to have to accept it as such."

"I will not." His father screamed, dropping Arthur, who scrambled back to his feet, backing away from the shaking man. "You can leave! Get out of this house! I will not have such _filth_ tainting our bloodline as this!"

He hears his brothers protests from the other side of the kitchen, but he watches himself give his father one last gesture before once again the colors were shifting like pulled taffy, and he was spinning into a new memory…

He knows this place, how could he ever forget? Hogwarts had always been more of a home to him than his own house, where his older brothers would torment him relentlessly and he'd hide from his father's disapproving glare.

But how is he back? He was in London only moments ago, with an odd witch and Alfred tugging on his sleeve in a frenzied panic.

A voice pulls him away, a terribly familiar, haunting voice. One he'd hoped never to hear again.

Cautiously, Arthur rounds the corner and stops when he sees a much younger version of himself. He looks to be about fifteen, he's short yet still looks long and lanky and horribly thin. There's an ink smudge on his nose, and his head is buried inside a potions book, his eyes so close he'll surely need glasses if he strains them in such a way.

A group of boys passes right through him, as though Arthur is a ghost, however they too stop when they see younger Arthur completely oblivious to the world around. He feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach all over again when he sees Braginsky's cronies began to leer, pulling wands out of the pockets of their robes.

"Oi, Kirkland!" One of them calls, and Arthur is suddenly so horribly aware of the memory that he's reliving. It's one of the worst.

Younger Arthur stills, slowly pulling the book away from his face. If he's scared (which Arthur knows he is) he doesn't show it. Instead he tucks the book into his bag, and gives a kurt, nearly polite nod and continues.

"Aye, aye!" Another shouts. "Don't be like that!" Arthur ignores them, picking up his pace, he turns back around the corner and the others simply watch. He can see himself relax slightly, thinking they'd leave him alone. The fight would never happen. But Arthur knew better, he shouldn't have called it a fight when he knew it was a war.

"Hey, fag? Where you going?"

Arthur's veins still chill at the call. He sees his younger self stop. Only his back is visible, but he remembers the feeling of shock, then hurt, and finally anger that passes through him as fast as flipping through a photo. He whips around, wand out. "What did you just call me?"

"Everyone knows you'd suck me off if I let you." Another jeered, and the others howled with laughter. Adding their own creative insults.

"And to how do you owe me that honor?" Came his younger self's swift reply, Arthur still shone a bit as he watched the boys instantly stop pushing one another and fall silent.

"What did you just say?" Braginsky asked, his voice was childishly calm, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

"Would you like for me to dumb it down, Braginsky?" Arthur replied, although he knew full well Ivan was just as smart as him, if now more. He takes a reckless step forward and then another, until he is nearly nose to nose with Ivan, who towers over him.

"Because I'm not sure you're brain cells are capable of understanding what it means to suck you off." he paused, the sneer growing. Arthur had nearly forgotten just how cocky he could be. "I bet you'd enjoy that, Braginsky."

It was spoken barely above a whisper, yet he saw something click inside Ivan, a cold fury that hadn't been there before, it blazed like a light flame angry and sparking. Ivan's wand was out in a second and Arthur was flown so far back that he slammed into a stone wall, a few of the portraits gasped, and Ivan's gang howled with laughter behind him.

The sound of his own body hitting the wall is replaced by a whipping wind and more shifting colors. Arthur feels as if he's about to throw up the way his stomach pulls and drops violently. There is a sudden throbbing in his head.

However, this was no memory. Arthur had no recollection of this cold, black, uncomfortable room. There is no other Arthur. There is just him in a freezing, blackened room.

He turns around, and there's lies a file on a wooden desk, it is the only piece of furniture in the room. The manilla folder is labeled "Ministry Code 013. Private" in thick red ink.

Arthur feels an irking, the need to open the folder, see what's inside. No, he has to see what's inside, although he shouldn't. His pale arm reaches out for it and a door from behind him prompt slams open, a furious Gawain Robards runs in with his face red, followed by a disgruntled Kingsley Shacklebolt and more aurors. They're all Arthur's coworkers.

In that moment the room is not so foreign, he has been here before. He's felt that darkness, that coldness and whatever was in that file he wasn't supposed to have seen.

"Arthur!" A tug on his arm and the world comes flooding back in. Once again he can feel the cold nipping at him, hear the running Thames, and he more knows than feels that the warm hand pulling dangerously at him is Alfred's.

His eyes snap to the witch from earlier, whose eyes seemed to have returned to their normal purple hue. She smirks.

"Master will be pleased." The smile deepens. "Yes, he will be very happy with Natalia."

"It's Ivan." Arthur says with a grimace, pulling his arm away sharply. "It's Braginsky." The moment he says it he know it's the truth and the way the witch's eyes widen and then smirk slightly before she disappears is the only answer he needed.

The hand on his other arm pulls him so strongly back he feels as if another stunning spell has fired him backwards. The two crumble to the street, Alfred wraps a protective arm around Arthur. He's breathing hard, and the hold on him tightens.

"Fuck Arthur." he says, pressing him even closer. "She did some odd thing with her wand and then you blacked out for a moment and I thought she'd killed you! I panicked and was about to call for help when you snapped back and just god, Arthur! I thought you were gone. I was terrified that you were gone and I just-"

"Alfred, hush." He said, spinning to face the muggle. He looked near to tears, and Arthur is stained with that familiar feeling of self-loathing and hideous guilt. Alfred should never have a reason to be so distressed. "It's alright. I'm here. Everything's fine. It's alright." he continued to mutter odd words of reassurance, ignoring the odd glances from pedestrians until he began to feel Alfred's grip on him loosen and his shoulders begin to still.

The two stood up, relieved to be off the cold sidewalk once more. Arthur dusted off his robes and begin to hurry along the sidewalk a new pep in his stride, Alfred at his side.

"What are we supposed to do now?" He asked after they'd left the Thames behind and started to meander aimlessly through the crowded streets, now heavy with commuters.

"Well, I have an idea what." He said.

"Arthur, how on earth are we supposed to win this fight? You seem very talented, but even you can only do so much."

He stopped, and turned to face Alfred a sharp wind blowing both their hair, reminiscing old words, an old argument, an old thought. "Don't call this a fight, when you know it's war."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V: The Long Run

The city had managed to fully come alive now. The streets were quick to become clogged with buses and cars, and shops flipped their signs to open while the sun penetrated the clouds dotting against the sky.

Arthur had lead Alfred away from the scene, going nowhere in particular other than away. Away from that terrible witch and those terrible memories that she'd stirred once more. Ones that now began to assault his mind all over again.

As far as they walked, Arthur still could not manage to will away the headache that had formed nearly the moment he came back after that final recollection. It throbbed as though someone had opened up his mind to be dissected and picked at it. Stirring around thoughts and memories until they reached a very special one, one that Arthur was very nearly sure he should not have seen.

It was that fact alone that led him to believe that whatever that last memory had been was not fake. He also felt he couldn't ignore how palpable the image was. That chilling feeling of goosebumps running up and down his arms, the anger of his boss and the minister permeating the room, and that odd draw to that crisp manilla folder, sitting simply on the desk.

A strong gust of wind blew through Arthur's hair and ruffled his green and silver scarf- an old hint of house pride he still wore. They came to a stop light, the blur of cars in front of them when Alfred broke the silence.

"You look a bit pale there, Art." he said, looking towards him while shifting on his heels. "Do you want to go sit down?"

"No. I'm perfectly alright and do not need to sit down." Arthur replied as the light turned red and the traffic seized for a moment.

"Okay." Alfred said as they crossed. "I need to sit down. It's been one heck of a morning, hasn't it? Almost as crazy as yesterday." he laughed dryly. Arthur nodded in agreement before burying himself deeper into the scarf.

Alfred lead him into the nearest hole-in-the-wall coffee shop he could find. Luckily it wasn't very far, as there was a cafe on nearly every corner. The place reeked with muggle-coffee, but was surprisingly quiet with the exception of a student typing furiously at a device, bags under her eyes and empty coffee cups, as well as the businessman and the tired looking woman behind the counter.

Alfred forced Arthur into a small table for two near the back of the shop next to a bookshelf and shed his bomber jacket. Arthur only sighed before unwinding the scarf and pulling off his jacket.

"Alfred, we've got to leave. I know where we need to be to fix this whole bleeding mess." he paused for a moment, glancing as Alfred pulled off his own coat. "I know how I can fix this."

Alfred ignored the I in his sentence. "Arthur, you're paler than a ghost, not that I've ever seen one, and while I'm just as excited to finally have a plan as you are, but right now you're not going anywhere." and something about the way he spoke, laced with concern and authority made Arthur pause and slump back into the chair tiredly, shrugging off his peacoat at last.

Alfred shot him a reassuring smile before turning to glance at the chalkboard of options. "Alright, Art what do you want? Tea? They've got about a dozen options so you're gonna have to be specific. I'm not a mind reader, ya know?"

"Don't call me that." he hissed, followed by a laugh. "Alfred, I don't know any of your teas."

Thankfully, he seemed to get what he meant after a moment and smiled again, really did he ever not smile? "Course, Art. Thur." He said, turning around and ignoring the venomous glare Arthur shot at his retreating back.

Once he was alone he let his eyes drift shut, trying to will his thoughts away from Alfred and closer to the task at hand. If he thought hard enough, perhaps he could open up more of the memory, although his dissected mind still throbbed painfully.

The ministry. He had to go back to the ministry. The thought of going back shifted uncomfortably inside of him. There was no way he could take Alfred there. They'd for sure be discovered, Arthur would certainly lose his job then, if he hadn't already that was, and Alfred would be oblivated.

Despite himself Arthur glanced over to see Alfred placing what was certainly a ridiculously long coffee order at the counter. He smiled fondly despite himself.

No, there was no way he could take Alfred there. But he would have to wouldn't he? No. It was too dangerous. He was sure to be discovered in a place teeming with wizards, they'd be able to pick out a muggle amongst themselves like a wolf in a sheep's pen.

The sound of a cup being placed on the table forced him to peer up, he blinked to find Alfred sliding across from him with a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, Arthur noticed he'd gotten him one as well. He'd never eaten so much muggle food in his life as he had in the past two days.

"Ya okay there?" Alfred asked around the rim of his cup. "Ever since she touched you you've looked a little off. What happened anyways?"

Arthur sighed but took a sip from the tea before answering, he grimaced. Muggle tea was not nearly as good as wizard tea.

Setting the cup down, he found himself telling Alfred everything he'd seen. Well, he left out the being thrown out of the house, or slamming against the school wall, but he delved into the scene at the ministry and what he thought happened. Alfred's face shifted from anger too shock, to confusion by the time Arthur was done.

Alfred shook his head. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the whole idea of wizards and magic and just as I start to get it, you shatter it all over again." he laughed, staring down into the last few sips of his nearly black coffee, his own reflection gazing back at him.

Arthur in turn nodded. "I do apologize. I'd probably think myself mad."

Alfred smiled. "Don't worry I'm doing plenty of that too." he leaned across the table to grin at Arthur. He felt his stomach flip. That bleeding grin. "I'm not sure I'd want to wake up if I was mad."

"Whatever do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Well," Alfred began before gesturing around the room. "It's all so incredible. I've always wanted for something incredible to happen, a chance to be a hero, you know? And now I think I've found that. And I'm in it now. For the long run."

Arthur leant back from Alfred's penetrating gaze. Out of all the muggles to find him, too "tag along" as Alfred would say, it had to be this one. This annoying, persistent and utterly insufferable idiot.

Arthur looked away. "I've got to go back to the ministry. I've got too find that document and dispose of it before the Kontrabanda get their slimy hands on it."

"I've?" Alfred said leaning back. "Arthur, I'm not letting you go alone."

"Alfred, you don't understand, you can't go." Arthur watched as Alfred's expression fell. He sighed. "The ministry is absolutely teaming with wizards. They'll be able to pick out a muggle very easily and when they do, we'll both be in trouble."

Alfred slumped back. "Still, you can't go in alone!"

"I work there, I'll be fine!" Arthur countered.

"What about me?" Alfred said, his voice rising.

Alfred's anger was nearly palpable and Arthur at first slunk from it, he shouldn't make Alfred upset before he grew frustrated himself, it was ugly and burning but more familiar than the budding attraction for the muggle. A muggle.

"I am not going to be the one to put both of us in danger! You are not coming, you know nothing of my world Alfred." he shot back, both where standing now, but stilled when they saw confused glances coming their way, the lady pouring coffee had stopped, the entire shop quite.

Without another word Arthur stormed out, followed by Alfred. The moment the door swung shut however, Alfred pulled at Arthur forcing him to look him in the eye. Pride alone kept Arthur from looking away.

"What happened too not splitting up, Arthur?" his voice was soft now, laced with hurt instead of anger. "Not even twenty-four hours later and you're breaking the only rule we'd put down!"

Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath and cool down. "Alfred, I don't want to leave you but you can't go."

Alfred ran a hand angrily across his face. "What are we supposed to do then? Surely I can disguise myself. Do y'all just smell magic or something? I'm sure I could pull it off."

Arthur smiled sadly. "It's not that easy."

Alfred Groaned in a completely undignified way before running his hand back through his hair and turning back to face Arthur. "What if we went later, like at night. When there's not as many people there?"

"That'll only arouse more suspicion if we're caught!" Arthur pointed out, although his tone held less bite. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave Alfred. Not in this state, if that witch came back, or even Ivan, he'd be practically helpless to do anything against it.

He turned back and rolled his eyes at the grin that had plastered itself on Alfred's face. It was never gone for long.

"Even you can't stand to miss this face!" he called after Arthur's retreating form.

"Sod off, Alfred!"

He could've punched him for laughing.

 **An:/ This chapter was really hard to write for some reason. I also apolgize about that coding mess the first time I uploaded this chapter, I should be more careful. But thanks for reading as always! More should happen in the next chapter, the story is about to really start rolling.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI: Spacedust**

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Arthur forced a fake wand into Alfred's pocket, he knew it wouldn't do very much if they were caught, but perhaps Alfred could pass as a wizard for a few extra minutes. He also forced him to trade out his bomber jacket for something slightly more practical, which lead to Alfred bursting into a rant about the practicality of his grandpa's bomber jacket during WWII, which lead to a very confused, and then disgusted Arthur when Alfred began to drive into a history lesson.

They found themselves on the street to be met with a rare, silent and cloudless night. The rodes were illuminated by yellowed streetlamps lamps and a few puddles dotted along the sidewalk. Alfred followed behind Arthur as he wove expertly through the dwindling crowds and crossed busy intersections. For a long while they walked in comfortable silence, both absorbed by their own thoughts.

He stopped at a red telephone box on an empty street, much to Alfred's surprise. When he began to ask if Arthur needed to make a phone call, Arthur glanced around before he shoved him into the tight box, the door clicking behind them.

"Hey Arthur," Alfred laughed unsurely, glancing back out into the empty street, "what are we doing in a telephone box?"

Arthur blinked at the dial for a moment, eyebrows furrowed before looking up at Alfred, his face flushed. "I erm, haven't used this method in a while and well, I've forgotten how to work it you see."

Alfred grinned blindingly. God, that bloody grin it never failed to make Arthur blink, his heart pick up a bit faster. "You need me to call someone for you?"

"No!" Arthur said, his face turning nearly the same color as the outside of the box. The fact that he was pressed right up against Alfred didn't help much either. "Would you just type in the bloody numbers 62442?"

"Sure," Alfred replied, leaning over Arthur to reach the dial. "62442 you said?"

"Yes." He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He listened as Alfred quietly whispered the numbers as the dial clicked in and out of place. He stepped back just as the last number whizzed back and a crisp female voice filled the box.

"Welcome to the ministry of magic. Please state your name and purpose."

"Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones" Arthur began, "erm, Auror business."

The voice paused for a moment then suddenly where coins should normally come out, came two buttons. Their names were printed cleanly and clearly with the words "Auror business" written underneath. Alfred marveled at the button, holding it as though it were made of china before tucking it safely into his pocket. Arthur decided against pinning his onto his shirt and instead shoved it carelessly into his pocket next to his wand and an old Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

The box gave a sharp jolt and Alfred stumbled forward into Arthur. He yelped, but when he peered behind him Alfred was already busy marveling at the moving phone box. It looked as if the ground were moving away from them as the box floated downwards, beneath the cobblestone street and gave way to a thick layer of dark stone. Alfred watched as if in a dream as the darkness gave way to a long and gaping marble hallway that was lined with hundreds of tall fire blazes, each filled with blazing bright green fires. On the other end lay many rather ordinary gated elevators, shut and closed, as though they were asleep.

But the most impressive part of the hallway was a stone statue of a wizard, that stood proudly in the center of the hallway, a set of red-bricked offices and darkened windows huddled behind him and on all sides of the walls, reaching higher than the ceiling of the fireplace rooms.

"You may have your wands checked at the visitor's table to your right." said the cold voice once more before the doors shuttered and slid open. "Have a lovely evening."

Arthur stepped out onto the cool black flooring, his footsteps echoing throughout the empty hallway almost eerily. Alfred stumbled out behind him, his usual bravado had been sucked away, as though by a vacuum cleaner, all he could do was marvel at the astounding sights that surrounded him. The very place seemed to teem with magic, he swore he could feel it wafting through the air, catching beneath his shoes and whispering in the air.

Actually, he thought, it felt like Arthur. That same captivating sense had been what caused him to stop the day before, at the odd man trying to break into an abandoned warehouse. Who knew it would lead him here.

"Do try not to get lost," Arthur called back. "I'm not sure you'd be able to find your way back."

"I think I'm dreaming, Art." came Alfred's dazed reply while he continued to gaze up at the ceiling, the fireplaces, statue, offices, everything he could see.

"I can assure you, you are not dreaming." Arthur said, picking up his pace slightly "Now hurry along. The less time we spend here the better." Despite Alfred's marveling, a cold, unsettling sensation had crawled itself up Arthur's back.

Alfred picked up his stride so he walked beside Arthur instead of trailing behind him. Arthur's shoulders were tight, and he kept glancing around as if expecting someone to fire a curse at them any moment.

He brought them to a grated elevator, which slid open when they approached. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief before shoving Alfred in before him. The golden grates sliding back into place as the elevator lurched backward and they began to descend deeper and deeper underground. Alfred chose not to think about just how much ground was above his head.

With each level they passed, the same crisp female voice announced each floor. Alfred continued to gawk and question Arthur about each one. He waved away most of the questions, the sudden nerve of what he was going to do began to settle uncomfortably in his stomach, setting his nerves on fire as if a muggle's match had been lighted against them. He should've been relieved that each stop they met only empty hallways, but it only added to his unease.

At last, they'd reached the final level and the department of mysteries was announced. Arthur took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor, Alfred followed close behind him as subconsciously Arthur drew his wand from his pocket as they inched towards the door.

The corridor was unnaturally cold. The sort of cold that buried itself deeper than the skin and into Arthur's bones, sending a wave of goosebumps running up and down his arms. The bleak, dark walls lit only by blazing green torches narrowed and focused, and the sound of their footsteps was so loud it that it to sounded out of place.

With his hand still tight around his wand, he reached out and threw open the door.

He half expected a monster to come crawling out, or at the very least a spell to fire at them, but nothing came. They were only met with the silent sight of dozens of doors in a circular, white room. A rather shark contrast to the straight, black hallway with a single door.

Arthur turned to check that Alfred was still behind him, he was. Although he looked abnormally pale, as though he'd just seen a ghost or been doused in ice water.

"You all right there?" Arthur asked.

Alfred instantly split into a grin, and even in their short time together Arthur could see how forced it was. "Me? I'm fine, Art. Just uh, don't want anything to jump out and hit you."

Arthur didn't bother trying to correct the nickname, and instead just raised his eyebrows skeptically before tightening the grip on his wand and stepping into the room. Alfred followed behind him and he heard the soft click of the door closing before the room around them begin to spin.

The doors flew past them, moving fast enough too stir up Arthur's bang's and confuse his eyes. Alfred stumbled a bit next to him, and instinctively Alfred reached out to steady himself on Arthur, his hand felt oddly comforting against his shoulder.

Just as it started, the spinning stopped and they were meant with the same sight they'd walked into, the doors stared back at them innocently. Arthur let out a shaky sigh.

"Well," Alfred managed to say "that was mighty clever."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, although his tongue was heavy and his mouth was made of cotton. "It was." He walked towards one of the doors, choosing one at random and pulled it open. He was met with a room.

Well, he assumed it was a room, but really what was on the other side of the door was what looked to be infinite space, it looked like someone had taken a piece of the night sky and shoved it into a confined room, then threw in some planets and stars.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, looking past Arthur's shoulders. Arthur tensed and started to push Alfred back.

"It's not what we're looking for," he explained quickly, but had greatly doubted Alfred's physical strength, he pushed past Arthur and glanced into the doorway. Arthur watched his eyes light up with absolute wonder and pure, bonafide joy.

"Alfred wait, don't go in there-" Arthur began, but Alfred had already taken a step inside before he stumbled for a moment and fell completely into the room. "Alfred!" he gasped, hurrying quickly back towards the door, only to find him floating within the room. Alfred's hand was outstretched as he groped towards a star, but his hand never made contact with anything as he drifted past.

"Git," Arthur hissed, "Get back here! Neither you or I have any bloody idea what is in any of these rooms and here you go prancing straight into one like some sort of-"

He was cut off once again by Alfred grinning, larger than he'd perhaps ever seen as he pushed past a model of Mars. "Arthur this is incredible! The details on some of these planets are a bit off, but marvelous! Look- the storm in Jupiter is even moving!"

Arthur glanced behind himself, there was that familiar heavy weight clinging to his back as though he were being watched and studied, like the tea leaves at the bottom of a cup. His eyes drifted back to Alfred, who looked sickeningly smaller as he passed by Jupiter and headed towards Saturn.

"Alfred!" he cried louder this time. "If you do not come back here I won't hesitate to hex you until you rue the day you were born!" he shouted. But Alfred never once looked back towards him, and now he looked much smaller than anyone should've looked in a single room. His stomach knotted uncomfortably. "Alfred?"

When he still didn't so much as glance his way, Arthur's hands began to feel hot, his wand like a weight in his hand, and still, Alfred's form was growing smaller and smaller- as if any moment he'd disappear as just another bit of space dust. Although now Arthur could make out Alfred beginning to flail frantically and his stomach grew tighter.

He hardly hesitated, he'd never tried summoning a person before but could've sworn he'd seen a professor do it once when a student had inflated herself like a balloon and had drifted past the north tower. " _Accio_ , Alfred!" he yelled, thrusting his wand as a stream of dulled light shot out, flying through the endless room before it latched itself around Alfred's leg and drew him back like a jumper cable. Alfred came crashing back onto Arthur, and together they fell back onto the cold floor, just as the door slammed shut and the doors spun again.

Both of their breaths were deep and heavy as Alfred pushed himself off of Arthur. Arthur could detect that familiar trace of guilt in Alfred's eyes, which he was refusing to meet. For a moment the only thing they could do was sit on the marble floor, panting and refusing to look at each other.

Alfred was the first to break the silence after the room had stopped spinning, he was fiddling with the end of his coat. "Arthur, I'm so sorry. I was just, so amazed by everything I saw in there, you know?" he confessed. "It was like a childhood dream coming true- I used to want to be an astronaut, actually, and it was like I was really there."

Arthur shifted so he wasn't leaning back on his hands. "I understand." he said, "But in the name of Merlin, when I tell you to stop you _listen_!" Arthur thought back to Alfred disappearing and his stomach lurched uncomfortably again "I just," he paused to glance at Alfred, who stared at the floor and let out a quivering breath. "I thought I was about to lose you out there," he whispered, more to himself than to Alfred.

At last Alfred looked up, and managed a half smile. "You were worried about me?"

Arthur's face lit up. "That's not what I said you twit!"

Alfred laughed and started to stand up and Arthur followed. "Okay, okay. But seriously, thanks for getting me back, whatever that crazy spell was. I was just starting to worry a bit out there."

Arthur offered up a small smile of his own. "Good, because now you can help me check the rest of these doors."

Arthur's head throbbed from watching the room spin around so many times. He would never be able to look at a door the same way again. When he opened the door to the brain room for the fifth time he gave a hopeless groan as he slammed the door shut and the room spun again.

"No luck?" Alfred asked from behind. He'd seated himself in the middle of the room and was picking at something he'd found in the coat pocket. Alfred had offered to help time and time again, but Arthur had grown tired of having to march over and tell him if it was the right room or not.

"None," he replied, watching as the doors came to a stop. He pulled open the new door, he kept betting with himself which room it was going to be this time, but when the door opened he paused.

It was a new room, one that seemed exceedingly ordinary compared to all the others, no dazzling lights or swimming brains, only a line of offices and shelves that looked about ready to burst with books and files. Every other aisle there was a door, which he assumed lead to more offices.

"Find something?" Alfred called, standing up to join Arthur at the door, he looked past his shoulders and into the seemingly ordinary office room. "Huh. Haven't seen that one yet, although I gotta say I was expecting something a little grander."

Arthur shook his head and stepped in. "No, this is what we want. This feels right." Alfred stepped in after him, and with a bit of hesitation, shut the door behind him. He hadn't forgotten what had happened the last time he'd been in one of these rooms.

Arthur started down the rows, counting off numbers in his head. He knew they were getting warmer, could feel it pulsing in the long room and through himself as his feet padded against the wooden floors.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred called from behind him. "come look at this." He turned and walked over to Alfred, who was gingerly holding a file with the word Kontrabanda printed in vivid wizard ink on the cover. A smile flickered at the edge of Arthur's mouth as he took it from Alfred. It felt excruciatingly heavy and fragile in his hands.

"My god, I think we found it," he whispered, a warm and satisfied feeling bobbing in his chest.

Alfred grinned. "You mean I found."

Arthur looked up at Alfred, the smile melting to something softer, something he didn't want to think about, but something that felt so right. "Shut up, Alfred."

And then Alfred's grin was softening as well, too something far more tender and dangerous, and gosh, had his eyes always been that blue? Had he always been that much taller than Arthur? And wow, was he actually getting bloody closer?

Arthur's eyes were just starting to flutter closed, he was just starting to lean in and fall into the spell when the door on the opposite side of the room burst open.

Arthur pulled himself away from Alfred so fast he had a moment of whiplash, before spinning around to find with utter horror his boss walking in with a female Auror he didn't recognize.

Without a second thought, he shoved Alfred underneath the nearest desk and pushed in the chair so that Alfred was squished between the back of the desk and the chair. Alfred grunted and Arthur kicked him lightly and he fell silent, just in time for his boss to finally look up and see Arthur standing there, a case file clutched in his hands and an unmistakable deer-caught-in-the-headlights look plastered to his face.

For a moment they could only blink at each other before a smirk worked its way across his boss' countenance. Even from here Arthur could see that malicious fire in his boss' eyes. "Mr. Kirkland, give up already did you?"

Arthur's grip tightened on the folder, his back stood a little taller. "No, sir."

His boss approached and the other Auror followed on his heels. He stopped when he was right in front of Arthur. He took a step back, but never once removed eye contact. "Then why are you here, Kirkland?"

"I was researching the case." he explained, "And I believe I have found some evidence that would be of great value to the entire ministry, sir."

His boss sneered, glancing down at the file in his hands. "You have no permission to be here. None at all."

"Actually, it's all part of the job." Arthur countered icily. "Aurors are allowed anywhere without permission unless stated otherwise, and as far as I know you never told me I couldn't come back to the ministry." he paused, "Sir."

Gawain's eyes narrowed dangerously, they reminded Arthur of amber flames and a child clawed down in his spine, his toes curling. "It also says that they are not allowed to be snooping in their higher-up's private office."

Arthur dared a glance towards the desk, sweeping swiftly over Alfred who had managed to make his hiding spot at least a little better by moving some books to. But the desk did have Gawain's name on it.

His gaze shifted back to his boss. "Then sir, I apologize. But I have the right to know as to why you have a case file on a group of individuals you have deemed as "not worth your blasted time" sitting right on your desk."

Gawain had started to shake, his hand now wrapped stiffly around his wand before in a very quick move he disarmed Arthur of his own wand and pointed his directly underneath Arthur's chin. The other Auror gasped, and Arthur cursed when he heard Alfred's own sharp intake of breath. Thankfully, Gawain's full attention seemed to be given to Arthur for the moment, a rarity in itself.

"Kirkland I could have you begging for mercy in a matter of minutes." he hissed jabbing the wand harder at Arthur's throat and it throbbed where the point pushed. "And out of pure mercy I will not be wiping your memory tonight, or perhaps, not. As you are in violation of snooping and I currently have every right to fire you where you stand."

Arthur smirked and didn't take a step back when Gawain's hand began to shake even harder around the wand in hardly controlled fury. "Please do, I've been busy stressing about when to curse you myself, but I suppose I could leave that up to karma now."

Gawain sneered. "You don't deserve to polish the grime off my wand, Kirkland." The wand pressed even harder, Arthur barely withholding a gasp. "You're done."

Then in a flourish, Arthur's wand was returned to his hand, the case file fell out of his hands and dropped to the floor, spilling papers everywhere and photos everywhere. With another wave of his wand, Gawain sent him through that familiar taffy-like feeling as he fell, the colors twisting and stretching, it felt as though he were being sucked through a vacuum before he was stumbling against the cold pavement and he fell.

He groaned, just as a book hit him hard in the head and fell into his lap, it was followed by a fluttering of papers and trunk smacking into the ground his Auror tools scattering everywhere. His prized tea collection followed with it, leaves and bags spilling everywhere and over the stone sidewalk. There was a crash, and Arthur turned just in time to make out his tea set slamming into the ground, the china shattering into a million shards.

A cold wind brushed through his untamed hair, and with shaky legs he pushed himself to his feet, head reeling. His throat throbbed painfully from where Gawain had jabbed his wand at it, and now so did his bum after falling ungracefully onto it.

He was sitting in a pile of his own things, everything that had occupied his office lay in a mess at his feet. Smashed ink bottles, bent quills, a broken sneakoscope, spell books, potions ingredients, his Fanged Geranium rolled in it's pot, snapping at the air. He let out a long, tired sigh.

But something was missing.

It felt like a stab to his pounding heart, it stung so much he gasped and clutched at his chest. He was going to be sick, his head throbbed.

Alfred.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII: Sea and Riddle**

When the breath escaped his lungs, it fell out in a clattered exhale. It returned in a shaky inhale, his chest screaming from being forced to stretch just that minuscule amount.

"I could do this all day, Comrade." someone said. "But I do not wish too." He wanted to laugh at that. There were few things Ivan Braginsky enjoyed more than watching ministry employees twitch, well maybe that and sunflowers and alcohol.

Another shaky breath. His eyes trained expertly on the rips in his slacks, the bangs of his white hair, but he dared a smile. "You're not as clever as you think. Your tricks are the same. Your desires never change. They're not as awesome as ours." His head lifted, despite the way bolts of white-hot pain nearly blinded him from the action. Sneering at the violet-eyes in front of him, eyes that dared look innocent, eyes that would haunt him for many, many years. "You're not getting that file, you stupid son of a bitch."

Ivan grinned, chills seeping down his spine like a river of dark water, then spreading across his arms, chest, legs. The cold gripped him like a curtain of winter. "You are right. All I need is him." Before he could come up with another witty remark, Ivan's wand was pointed at his chest, over his heart.

" _Crucio_."

This time, all he saw was blissful darkness.

Alfred was pretty sure that Arthur getting fired had not been part of the plan.

He was also pretty sure that Arthur disappearing had most definitely not been part of the plan either.

His back had started to ache from where it was cramped against the back of the desk. Arthur's boss was taking his sweet time talking to the witch and returning the file they'd nearly nabbed off of the desk. Alfred cursed, he would probably be stuck as a hunchback the rest of his life if this man didn't leave in the next few minutes.

"Sir," the witch began, her voice small. "I'm not sure I understand."

Arthur's boss scoffed and threw his hand over his shoulder. "Good. Because that file is something that could destroy the ministry's reputation as we know it. Britain would be the joke of the wizarding world. Foolish Kirkland would probably bring it right into the Kontrabanda's grimy hands." He picked up a newspaper from his desk, a freshly-printed copy of the Daily Prophet. Alfred managed a glance at the cover, the front page a story about a missing auror. He felt sick thinking about what Arthur's photo was the one on the cover.

He didn't even know where Arthur was. He'd been standing hardly five feet from Alfred minutes before, when there was a pop, and when Alfred blinked he was gone. He could be anywhere, risking his life or in trouble, or even just lost, and Alfred was stuck here, uselessly cramped under a desk with a pile of books that barely covered him up.

"Don't you think sending him too the Centaur's Office was a bit extensive?" The witch asked.

"I'm afraid, Arthur Kirkland already knows far too much." Arthur's boss continued "But, perhaps now he'll finally learn not to stick his blasted nose where it doesn't belong."

The witch was silent as Arthur's boss shoved the file back into a large box, only feet away from Alfred's foot. He curled up even tighter, hands covering his mouth. The box latched shut and Alfred watched as Arthur's boss slipped the key inside a potted plant. Alfred raised a skeptical eyebrow. Even a muggle could think of a better place than a plant to hide a key.

"What was in the file?" The witch asked, glancing around. "Was it the Kontrabanda? And what they want?"

Arthur's boss gave a grim nod. "Yes. Kirkland seems too think they are actually back. Which is preposterous. I defeated the leader, Ivan Braginski myself a few years ago, saw him fall cold. Never did find the body. Someone claimed to have sent it through the veil.

"You don't find this the least bit suspicious?" The witch said.

"None. The man who claimed to have done it is a very trusted advisor of mine and a very talented auror at that. Nothing close to Potter, but still a damn good Auror. I'd trust them with my life." He paused too light a pipe with his wand. Alfred didn't even know they still made pipes. "What is in that file is nothing that will concern any of us again."

The witch looked more than a little tempted to argue otherwise, but wisely chose to remain silent. Gawain took a puff from the pipe before he grabbed a different bunch of papers from off the desk and walked out of the room. "What we do need to worry about is that german auror who went missing." He tapped the paper with his wand before opening the door, the witch following behind with hesitant footsteps.

Alfred only dared let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding until the door on the other side of the room clicked shut, and their footsteps and voices faded away. He crawled out from under the desk and cringed when he heard his back pop.

Alfred turned around to face the odd-looking plant that Gawain had hidden the key in. It had large pincers, that loosely resembled a venus fly trap, and an unsightly wrinkled face etched into the thick stem. The face glared at him, before spatting out a wad of dirt that landed near Alfred's shoe.

You know, at this point Alfred had stopped being surprised.

"I don't know what in the blazes you think you're doing here muggle, but you better get the hell out of here." The plant's voice was nasally and deep, but the scowl reminded him slightly of Arthur's. Although, he was pretty sure that Arthur would jynx him if he ever found out that Alfred had just compared him to a house plant.

"Look," Alfred began and the plant frowned at his accent. "I need that key. It's uh, highly important. So I think it would be best if you just handed it over-" he reached forward to dig into the dirt around the plant when one of the pincers came down on his hand and pinched, drawing a fair amount of blood. He drew back his hand sharply with a strong hiss and curse.

"Ouch! Dude, a polite no would have been just fine!" Alfred grimaced, covering up his bleeding hand. The plant shot him a smug glare. Maybe he should just turn the pot over and the whole thing over with.

"Look okay, I really need that key, so I think it would probably be best if you don't make me uproot you here."

The plant's smug smile turned thoughtful for a moment before it transformed into a smirk that instantly made Alfred's stomach drop uncomfortably. The plant clicked a pincer. "I will if you can answer this riddle."

His stomach plummeted even further as if he'd just been thrown over the side of a cliff. Riddles had never been his strong point. In fact, if asked to answer a riddle or write an essay on Shakespeare, he'd probably take Hamlet. He was sure that he didn't have much of a choice and he sighed. "Alright."

The planned grinned. "Lovely. You get three guesses." He nodded even as a fresh quell of nervousness worked it's way up his spine. "What is brown and sticky?" He asked.

Well, about a million options ran through his head. Caramel, maple syrup, mud, the goop at the bottom of Arthur's oven, melted beans…

He also knew there was no way a riddle could be that easy. Brown and sticky, brown and sticky, brown and sticky…

God, who invented riddles?

The plant drummed its leafy hand against the edge of the pot, his eyes wondering boredly as he vacantly pretended to check his watch. Bastard. Brown and sticky, brown and sticky… Sticky! Of course!

"A stick!" Alfred exclaimed. "It's definitely a stick."

The plant threw a handful of dirt at him, the scowl back and nastier than ever. "I'll tell you, telling that sort of joke is enough to keep every girl away from you for at least ten years." He rubbed the back of his neck before remembering the whole reason why he'd had to solve that riddle and talk to a plant. "So, Mr. Plant, where is that key?"

The plant grumbled some more, but finally pulled the key of the dirt and placed it in Alfred's outstretched palm, he pulled his hand away before the plant could change its mind, and rubbed the dirt off with a corner of his shirt. "Thank you."

The plant nodded stiffly while Alfred leaned down and opened the chest. About a dozen different locks clicked open and the chest slid open carefully. Inside, there were mounds and mounds of old books and other case files that appeared similar to the one on the Kontrabanda. There were also a few sketchy looking objects, and what Alfred was nearly sure was an actual unicorn horn.

He ignored the other objects and carefully picked up the file on the Kontrabanda that they needed before shutting the chest closed, relocking it, and burying the key back into the pot. The grumpy plant watched him the entire time, and just as Alfred was turning to go the plant called out to him, "Wait!"

Alfred spun and sent the plant a questionable look as it shifted again inside the pot. "Yes?"

"I know how you can get out of here."

This caused Alfred to pause. He was hoping he could find the visitor's entrance and leave that way, but something told him that was a one-way deal. He didn't know any other way out of here for someone who didn't have an ounce of magic in his blood.

"If they see you here they'll probably wipe your memory after a lot of extensive questioning." The plant explained, his voice was softer and his squashed-in eyes kept glancing around. "But if you're careful you can reach a staircase on the fourth floor, 'Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures'. On the second hallway to the left, there's a portrait of a mermaid. I want you to talk to her and tell her Sir Foliage sent you."

Alfred nodded, copying every one of his sentences into his mind. He had a strong feeling this might be his only chance to get out of here. "How will she help me?" He asked tentatively.

"There's a winding staircase behind her that should lead both up and down. If you follow it up, to the very top, you'll eventually push past another portrait into a bathroom. You'll have to be careful to not let any muggles see you come out, but you'll be on the surface."

Alfred's face fell into a thankful grin, and the weight of an elephant eased off his shoulders, one he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. Maybe someone really was looking out for him after all. "Thank you, Sir. Is there anything I can do to repay you? As the hero I am?"

Sir Foliage scoffed but smiled lightly. "No, muggle. Now go, go before you are found. There isn't much time before this place is swarmed with workers." Alfred nodded and gave a half sarcastic salute and another quick thanks, before he turned and ran out the room, his feet thudding against the wooden boards before bursting out of the door into the spinning room, the file kept close to his chest.

It took him only a few doors before he found the exit hallway, stumbling for a moment in the darkness before his hand caught on the wall, the door slamming shut behind him. It sounded like a bullet in the quiet blanket the corridor was wrapped in.

He allowed himself a quick glance up and down the hallway, but with a sigh of relief found it emptier than a poor man's pocket. He dodged quickly between the pockets of light the green torches on the wall gave before he reached the elevator, and the doors rattled open easily for him.

Alfred had never been a religious man, but when the doors opened and the elevator was vacant, he was sure that some greater force was watching out for him. He had no knife, or gun, or even a baseball bat of some sort. He didn't have anything to defend himself with, and he didn't think that a few punches could do much against men and women with magic that could do anything to him with only a flick of a wand. The file tucked inside his jacket seemed much heavier with those thoughts in mind.

He listened as the crisp voice announced each floor too him. Muggle elevators were much faster because they didn't stop at every damn floor there was, and each time the elevator opened Alfred felt his heart quicken and his limbs stiffen like bowstrings. He only ever saw a few people on a floor, and they never so much as glanced at him.

Finally, the grates opened to level four, "Department for Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures" and Alfred slipped out, amazed at how quiet he could be when he really wanted to be. Matthew would be proud.

This floor was much better lit than the department of mysteries and was divided up into many different hallways. He could hear squawking and odd noises, as well as human voices coming around a corner. He stilled, pressing himself against the corner, his hands balling into protective fists at his sides.

"Yeah, apparently the dragon went wild. Weren't able to control it." Said one of the voices, the accent sounded Scottish.

"Apparently not." Came the second voice. "Killed three muggles! Three! And with Beilschmidt missing, the ministry is in a lot of trouble right now. Wasting too many resources and trying too hard to cover everything up too..."

The conversation faded as the speakers walked past the corner and disappeared around another. Alfred's fists uncurled and he glanced back up at the sign labeled "Department of house Elves". When someone shouted "Hey, Muggle! Whatchya think yer doing here?"

Alfred spun around so fast that the man wasn't expecting the hard sock to the left side of his face. He stumbled back grasping at his face and pulling a wand from his coat pocket. Alfred kicked him hard in the groin, and the man gave a wheeze of pain before collapsing over, the wand falling from his grip.

Well, maybe a fist could do more than he thought.

He picked up the man's wand and threw it down the hallway before he turned and ran, his heartbeat a rush in his ears. His breath too loud. He was no longer sure where he was, he wasn't really sure of anything anymore.

Second hallway. That was right.

He dared himself to backtrack and ran down the second hallway from the elevator. The walls were made of stone and lit homely with crackling torches. There were no portraits, only rock. His heavy footsteps sounded like gunfire in his ears. There would be a mob with him if he didn't find this mermaid soon.

The hallway seemed to go on forever. The same stone brick walls and evenly spaced torches. It was almost like being back in the space chamber, he could go on forever and ever and never find an end.

That's when he saw it. A painting. A break in the uniform walls and when he came to a stop in front of it, panting and huffing with his blond bangs sticking to his forehead he saw that the oil painting was in fact of a mermaid. She had no top, and instead, her dark blonde hair covered her breasts. She was perched on a rock, and behind the seas were dark gray and moody. A mirror was in her hands as she played with the ends of her hair and blinked at herself. Alfred was just about to clear his throat when she glanced up at him and he watched a coy smile fall over her round face and her eyelashes fluttered.

"Oooooh is that a muggle I see?" She called crawling over the rock, her violet tail shifting under her waist. "Haven't seen one of those in a very, very long time. What brings you?" She giggled. More like laughed, as her accent was distinctly French. "Unless you came looking for me. I'm sure I could," She glanced down his body and Alfred unconsciously took a step back. "Be of help."

"Actually I was looking for you!" Alfred explains with a sigh of relief. The mermaid raised a perfectly painted eyebrow at that. "You see, I've really got to leave, pretty sure an erm, nonmagical person as myself is not supposed to be her and I was told

She shifted again over the rock, dropping herself so she lay blinking up at Alfred, resting her head neatly in her palms. "Leave?" She purred, "So soon? Surely there is a good reason a muggle is here. Especially one so…" she waved her hand absently in the air, searching for the right one before plucking it down and turning her painted violet eyes back at him. "Dashing as yourself. What's your name, Cherie?"

He laughed. "My names Alfred. Sir Foliage sent me."

The mermaid narrowed her eyes and sat up slightly. "Sir Foliage? That old fraud doesn't know what's good for him. You better find someone else you can help you out of your trifle."

"Wait for ma'am, you've got to help me!" The sound of running footsteps further down the hall nearly made Alfred spit up his stomach. The mermaid seemed to hear it too but didn't so much as turn. "Is there anything I can do to help you out?" Alfred asked, his voice beginning to merge towards panic.

She tossed a lock of dark blonde hair over her shoulder with a "humf" and turned away from Alfred. This was probably the reason he was gay.

The footsteps grew louder. "Tell Sir Foliage he can shove his own pincers up where the surface doesn't shine-"

Definitely why he was gay.

The footsteps grew louder and Alfred's hands grew damp again. "If I'm ever down here again, if Arthur ever brings me back, that is, I will." He glanced towards where the sounds of the footsteps were coming. "I just, please-"

"Wait." She said turning around again. "Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?"

Man, Arthur probably had no idea he was this popular, but Alfred nodded earnestly in return. "He's also a prick. Will you be seeing him soon?" And Alfred dare says she looked hopeful.

"Yes, yes I will I'll tell him to shove his wand wherever you want just I've really got to go." The footsteps were nearly there.

The mermaid pondered for another moment, before nodding. "Alright. Tell him just that, and Francine said it." Then she actually winked. "I still want to see you again, muggle." And without another word the portrait swung open to reveal a dark spiraling stone staircase lit by the same torches the corridor had been lit with. How cliche.

"Thank you." Alfred gasped as he stumbled inside behind the portrait.

" _Oui,_ now go muggle, I shall hold them off." Then the painting promptly swerved shut just as the footsteps reached a climax and came to a huffing stop.

"Oi, portrait!" Alfred recognized the voice as the man he punched and felt his skin chill, his grip tightening over the file he clutched at his chest. "Did ye just see a muggle pass by? Heard he's sat everything up in chaos? Blue eyes, blonde hair, real good looking?"

Francine laughed. "Oh Mon Cher, you must be mistaken! A muggle cannot be within these walls. You best hurry along, or check into St. Mungo's to get your mind checked, something is clearly amiss."

The men cursed but moved past and Alfred allowed a grin to carve its way over his face. He tilted his head back against the wood of Francine's portrait to stare up at the underside of the staircase. Bless her. He wouldn't be left to forget everything down here.

His limbs seemed to drag as he started on the staircase and his eyes felt like closing. Now that the pressure had eased, the fatigued had stolen its place. He prayed he could find Arthur's flat because he was surely panicking at the moment.

He smiled and took another step as the stairs screened left. The folder feeling lighter in his grip. He'd made it.

Arthur's boss was definitely going to get a hard hook to the face once this whole ordeal was over.


End file.
